Sunday, June 29, 2003

Q: What is RoshCorp, and how can it help me?

A: Fuck You. RoshCorp is a Pluriform EgoService Entity catering to the Astral Plane and greater Tristrate Area since 2012. Our credentials include tele-zapping Siddhartha Goutama with siddhi shock therapy and jump-starting The Nirvana Complex-a poisonous and irritating mega-meme that to this day allows the braindead rich and the braindead famous access to divinity via hokey shards crystals and jangly things. We've created such fun cultural archetypes as the Solar Hero and the Trickster God with our substantial employ of Reality Engineers and Retro-Historians. We've made the world as you see it, because we thought you wanted it that way. We offer dental plans and stadium seatings at all annual Clash of Titan events.

Q: Do you have a Motto, Pitch, or Slogan?

A: Yeah. “Dude, I ass-fucked Sartre”

Q: Isn’t that anti-intellectual? Do you think you’re funny?

A: Who’s joking?

Q: I want a long, belabored and flamboyant manifesto that makes mundane philosophical points look new and exciting. You know, something to show the wife and kids. What've you got, fuck-face?

A:
Life is meaningless.

Which is why it is important to create symbolic pathways to re-structure your own reality

Live according to Christian theology and crosses seem to appear at miraculous or lifeshattering events. The virgin mary’s face, vaguely benevolent and warm but mostly wickedly detached and stoned out of her mind manifests as fog on your windshield right before you survive a devastating car crash. Series of angels and trumpets and horsemen and other eschatological icons appear prior to death as the subject is removed and defribulated into an endless electrified mess of cranial mucus and melted internals.

Symbolic pathways are the Ego informing itself of its limits, its internal guidelines and structures, mapping reality according to an inwardly trained code. It’s Jung and its Austin Osman Spare; its Freud and its Nietzche, its Shakespeare and its Jack Kevorkian to be sure. There is an external reality, the limits of which we can not experience empirically. It’s that space between sensory experiences that are rationally computable by the human brain and everything else that is transfigured through these religious or spiritual metaphors at will. Even the most disciplined scientific model is a language trying to obtain and understand an object with words and with metaphors-although science’s metaphors adapt and grow more often than others. “RoshCorp’s science is tight as fuck”, a drunken hobo exclaims as low fi Adobe Film created Corporate Logos flash in the foreground. “as FUCK.”

Ego is a narrative, and the process in which the ego is embedded is capable of echoing or re-iterating this narrative. There is narrative in reality. Just as asynchrony and chaos is possible and therefore occurring within an infinite exterior Other, Narrative and Pattern are occurring, just as frequently, with as much luster and fervor and love. The miserabalist who pretends life is meaningless and death is final is living in a particularly rigid and ultimately poorly imagined reality tunnel unaware that “meaning” does not have an external analogue-that meaninglessness is self-ascribed and that death is about as concrete an assurance to an Infinitely Self-contradictory Other as denim pants are to a poodle. To determine that The Game is pointless is to self-defeat according to the rules of The Game.

We Here at RoshCorp believe in storytelling as the only infinitely powerful Act of God and the Egoic Self as a constantly obliterated and created Narrative whose complexity, shape and progress is defined by the Subject in mediation with itself. Self-defeat is masturbation-so wake up to some strong ego-cyanide caffeine in your Harre Krishna Koffee! RoshCorp takes no prisoners in thematically resolving the end-points of the soul, toy-boating geometry to make your Being a concrete and quasi-quantifiable entity that you can present at dinner parties after having waxed and coated it with RoshCorp ectoplasmic GodJelly. In addition, RoshCorp now home delivers copies of boring DVDs of 80s romantic comedies with a Mocha Latte or Supreme Pizza. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen John Cusack ass-fucking a Buddha Christ in our Special Edition of “Say Anything”, all while an 80’s ghetto blaster held chivalrically above the head smashes aural samizdats in a long droning hum, obliterating John’s car, his arms and torso and eventually the very celluloid the film is printed on. Peter who?

God Made Man and Man Made God, and now they’re BOTH DEAD. So who gives a fuck who poked who first? RoshCorp wants you to believe what you want to believe, and wants you to do so as flamboyantly, overattentively and with as many jaw dropping pyrotechnics as possible. Step into the laboratory.